Grant me my freedom here that I may wander
under this cloud of twisted green and brown
and coarse lattice sieving out brilliant light
among humanity distilled in a wooden cask
holding the yellow aroma of fire and heat
and charcoal black greed, burning feverishly
with pure power in a crucible marked peace
where corruption shovels in its currency.
Bleed me, feed me and purge my hunger
for happiness while I hang on my rood
under the blazing, unblinking eye through this
swaying canopy, this winking cloak of lethargy.
Help me find solace in the rain of white light,
ease me into redemption and cure me of need,
of the succour of a lover who sees not my equality
but heeds my slavery to her will; who cannot
respect my faults under her judgement. Deliver me
from that cursed heaven, this blighted haven,
the pasture of poison ivy where I lay my weary head.
Give me the keys to the caged door keeping me
bound to her bedpost so that I may walk free
and be one with myself amid these deciduous eaves:
at once the barren skeletal claws of bitter winter;
and the glowing richness of life in beautiful spring;
home to those who sing; shelter to those who burrow;
the walls of my uncommon Hell, the bone carpet
of my darkened dell under twisted green and brown,
my bloodless sacrifice and the thorn of my crown.
Malek Montag
Rochester, June 2017
Picture Credit: http://pixdaus.com
malekmontag 